


Weeping Rain, Shrinking Tide

by danke_rose



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Angst, Canon death has already occurred, F/M, Hint of romance, Mention of afterlife, Other characters include Illyana Scott and Emma, So much angst, but a happy ending, kurtty - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25191556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danke_rose/pseuds/danke_rose
Summary: Kitty misses Kurt terribly, and begins to have odd dreams about him.
Relationships: Kitty Pryde/Kurt Wagner
Comments: 20
Kudos: 7





	1. Time Does Not Bring Relief

**Author's Note:**

> The title and chapter titles are all taken from a poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay, 'Time Does Not Bring Relief; You All Have Lied' which is one of my favorites. I can't link to it, but it was a bit of my inspiration for this.   
> "Time does not bring relief; you all have lied/ Who told me time would ease me of my pain!/ I miss him in the weeping of the rain/ I want him at the shrinking of the tide/ The old snows melt from every mountainside/ And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane/ But last year's bitter loving must remain/ Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide/ There are a hundred places where I fear/ To go,--so with his memory they brim/ And entering with relief some quiet place/ Where never fell his foot or shone his face/ I say, "There is no memory of him here!"/ And so stand stricken, so remembering him."
> 
> I was supposed to be writing something else last night but this just flew out of me. I did very little editing so I apologize for any terrible, glaring errors. This is just a little bit of a filler thing anyway. I don't normally write sad, angsty stuff, as you know, but it doesn't last--don't worry. Happy ending. Enjoy!

Kitty worked. She taught the original five when there was time, and she went out on missions with Scott when he needed her. She tried not to hate Emma. She wrote letters of explanation and apology to Logan and Ororo that she tore up and threw away in anger. She owed them no apologies. Illyana was back in her life, and Peter Quill was no longer, and both were a relief. He had wanted her to love him. She couldn't.

When she'd been at the school, before joining Scott's team in the middle of nowhere, she'd easily kept busy. There were a lot more students, aliens, mutants, crises. The biggest downside was the little blue critters that had infested the school, reminding her constantly of people she did not want to think about. Finding the reason to leave had felt like a blessing at the time.

Kitty worked. She wrote lesson plans she never used. She fixed computers that weren't broken. She did research on things she already knew about. She worked so much the others teased her about being a workaholic, being so addicted to being busy that she couldn't stop. There was a grain of truth to it, though she didn't like to think about it. Thinking about the truth of it meant thinking about the reason she was burying herself in paperwork and classes and anger and feverish searches for some kind of rest.

Kurt was dead.

Over a year, gone. He'd been dead since she returned from space, or nearly so. She'd been trapped in her intangible state, locked in a tube in Hank's lab while he tried to keep her from discorporating again. At least that time they hadn't had to rely on Dr. Doom to save her.

Kurt had died before she got out of the tube.

Her intangible state had kept her from mourning properly, and when she got out of the tube, she threw herself into her work immediately. His death was worse than Piotr's, partly in the shock of it. In that tube, she could think and feel but she could not cry or scream or ball up in a corner. She could only exist and feel the pain. When she finally got out, she threw herself into work and distractions of any kind she could find, to avoid feeling that kind of pain again. It barely helped.

Everyone told her she'd heal in time. She'd mourn him and move on, as he'd want her to. He wouldn't want her to spend her life crying over him, and she knew that. She knew it and yet...she didn't think she'd ever truly get over losing him. She had even turned to her mother for comfort, and that was a sign she wasn't taking it well at all. Teresa had spoken to her about faith and hope and tried to comfort her daughter as best she could, but what Kitty wanted, the comfort she wanted was not to be had. Because Kurt was dead, and he was the one who had always made things better.

Sometimes it would come upon her, like a cat burglar, her grief. She'd be doing something completely innocuous, and suddenly remember Kurt. She got caught in the rain one time and there was Ireland, when Excalibur had discovered the secret chamber holding Necrom. Kurt had been soaked to the skin, his curls plastered flat on his head, rain dripping down his face. His face was fear and worry, having sent her and Rachel into the unknown. She remembered worrying his cast would fail in the rain, the full leg cast he had to wear when Brian broke his femur in a stupid, jealous fight. And it was like that. Once the memories started, they tumbled headlong into the next, until she remembered he was dead. When those moments caught her that way, she would choke back the tears and _run_.

She was good at running.

Work, her students, questions for Scott, anger at Scott, anything to change her focus. She suspected Emma and her Cuckoos of reading her mind over it, but she hardly cared. If Emma approached her about it, she'd simply have another outlet for her anger.

And she was so angry.

He shouldn't be dead.

She was angry at Kurt for doing what he'd done, teleporting like that _knowing_ what Bastion was like. He should have known. He must have been exhausted to have been thinking so hazily. She was angry at herself for not being there. She accused herself of every kind of betrayal, but even as she told herself she could have saved him, somehow, she knew she couldn't have. The kind of split-second timing involved in teleportation meant he was dead the moment he materialized on Bastion's hand. Even if she'd been standing right there, she could not have saved him. And she hated that.

Sometimes she dreamed about him, sitting on some beautiful cliffside, overlooking a valley so covered in clouds the bottom was invisible. He'd be wearing white robes and not moving, so unlike Kurt. She hated the dream because it couldn't be him. Kurt had always been happy. But that wasn't true. He hadn't always been happy, though he'd tried, certainly. She recalled times she would catch him staring off somewhere, a look in his eyes so dark and lonely she couldn't imagine what had made him feel that way. He'd notice her looking, smile his most charming smile, fangs and all, and insist he was fine.

She remembered a time at Muir Island when she and Kurt had been in the hologym when it malfunctioned, and they both thought they'd die there together. She did not wish to be dead, but she did wish that wherever Kurt was, she could be there, too. And then she remembered even farther back than that, a time she'd caught him killing himself in that same hologym, not long after he'd come out of his coma. She had stopped him, saved him that day, and demanded to know what he was doing. The X-Men were presumed dead, and Kurt had been grieving foolishly. Like she was now.

Kitty had cried when they learned the X-Men were dead. So many nights, alone in her room she had cried, clutching photos in hard frames, Lockheed pacing while she remained inconsolable. There had been one night, barely days after Kurt had woken up, when she'd been crying her heart out, and hadn't heard the repeated knocks on her door. So he'd come in at last, unable to bear the sound of her sobs any longer.

His voice, oh how she longed to hear that low, mellow sound, like water over her skin. His voice had come to her through her heaving sobs, soothing her with understanding as he dropped heavily to the side of her bed, still weak. It was the only time she could remember him crying. He hadn't told her everything would be all right, he hadn't suggested she stop crying or stop being sad. He had put his arms around her and cried with her, and it had done more for her than any words could have.

When she cried now, she was always alone.


	2. You All Have Lied

Leaving with Scott had been a relief in many ways. Kitty had tried to work through the worst of her grief with the rest of her friends and teammates in the mansion. Then the original five had come along, kids still, that same team of friends had tried repeatedly to manipulate and coerce them into doing something they did not want to do. In that, she found the perfect reason to leave. She told herself the kids needed her, their teacher. She told herself Wolverine had betrayed them and her. She told herself she needed Illyana.

Wolverine was so angry, but he had let her down. Ororo, too, had let her down. All of them had refused to listen to her. They let her talk and then did whatever they were going to do anyway. How could she work with people like that? She needed a change.

She could not have what she needed.

Scott's headquarters was a relief and a burden because here, Kurt had never set foot in the corridor, never eaten at the metal tables, never sat on her bed and held her hand while she told him about her day. He had never watched a movie and made her laugh, acting out the swashbuckling scenes. It was almost worse than walking the halls of the school and remembering him hanging from a chandelier in the library or teleporting into the kitchen in the middle of a meal. She had avoided his room, mostly, but now she couldn't see it if she wanted to. She wished she'd brought something with her, something of his.

One time, she'd gone into his room. She told herself she would go one time. It had smelled like brimstone, of course, and looked just like she remembered it. Posters on the walls, and swords, and books in piles. He read a lot more than people thought, but she knew. She had stood in the middle of his room and turned a circle, seeing everything, and seeing his ghost, and she had walked out feeling cold. She didn't go back in.

Leaving the school seemed to put him back in her mind even more. Almost as if getting away from the constant reminder had made her subconscious desperate to keep him in her consciousness. She tried to think about him without feeling pain. She tried to remember happy things, but it all hurt. She'd followed the rules of her faith, and it had helped, but it still hurt. Worst of all, she dreamed about him more here. The same dream every night, Kurt in a white robe, looking sad and melancholy, only his tail visible as he looked out over the invisible valley.

She hated that dream, hated it with passion she couldn't explain. She hated how it went on, seemingly forever, the scene never changing, other than now and then his tail would twist, or he would sigh. But it was always the same.

Until one night it was different. He had looked at her, right into her dream eyes. It felt so real, like he was really looking at her. He said her name. “Kätzchen.”

Illyana gave the kids new uniforms, and Kitty thought she might really lose it with young Bobby if he didn't shut up and listen for five minutes. Then Jean began levitating and that was enough distraction for the day. It was wearing her down, though, the constant battle to keep Kurt from her mind. That night, when she shut the door of her room, she was exhausted.

“If you're up there, Kurt, I miss you,” she said aloud. Tears threatened as she said the words, but she held them off.

“Kätzchen,” he said in her dream, “I miss you, too.”

His white robe fluttered in a breeze she couldn't feel. The valley looked as it always did, and Kurt, in his robe, had been looking at it until the dream started. For what felt like real-time minutes, he'd sat motionless and staring at the valley. Then he turned his head and looked right at her, said her name. “I miss you, too.”

She woke up from the dream shaking, sobbing so hard she thought she might vomit. She stumbled to the bathroom for water, dribbling it down her chin in her haste to swallow as much as possible as quickly as possible. She stood panting, staring at herself in the mirror.

It wasn't possible. It was a dream, a figment of her imagination, a result of missing him so much she had to see him, and hear him again. It wasn't real. Kurt was dead.

“Kurt is dead,” she said to her mirror-self. “He's dead.” She put her face in her hands and cried.

“You look like shit,” Illyana said at breakfast.

“Thanks. I didn't sleep well.”

“No kidding.”

Kitty didn't elaborate, and Illyana didn't ask. Throughout her tasks, all day long, his voice returned to her memory. “Kätzchen. I miss you.” It felt like being haunted.

“Are you all right?” young Jean asked.

Kitty shook her head. “I didn't sleep well. I'm fine.”

Jean looked like she didn't believe her, but Kitty didn't care. It wasn't her business and it was about time Jean learned to mind that. By the time Kitty was ready to lie down that night, she was past exhaustion. Her heart was broken, as if the past year had never happened. It was like learning he was dead all over again, the dream made him so real. Waking up and knowing he wasn't going to bounce into the room with his cheerful greeting, calling her by his own name for her.

She had to sleep. She took a few minutes to settle her brain again, forcing herself to recite computer terms and binary code and verses of the Torah. But it was the memory of Kurt bringing her a coat on a snowy day that she fell asleep thinking about.

“Kätzchen,” he said. “Don't be scared.”

She was dreaming again, the same dream. He looked like he hadn't moved at all. In the dream, she could feel her heart pounding, whether in joy or terror, she wasn't sure. She tried to speak but no sound came out. She studied him instead, noticing the way the hood of his robe was askew on his head, one pointed ear sticking out. He was no longer sitting at the edge, with his knees tucked against his chest, but crouching as he often had in life. She could tell, even with the robe covering him. He grinned at her.

“I didn't know if it was real,” he said.

Kitty tried again to speak, but her voice—it wouldn't work, it didn't exist.

“It's all right,” he said. “Don't be scared.”

And because she had always trusted him, even when she was a little girl and was afraid of him, she stopped panicking in her dream and listened.

“You can't talk here, you aren't _here_. But I can talk to you. You can hear me, _ja_?” He pushed the hood off his head and ran his hand through the curls she remembered. Her throat felt tight. Tears threatened, and she woke crying. It was early, but not so early she couldn't get up.

Her hands shook as she brushed her hair and pulled it up into a ponytail. She told herself she needed to eat. She hadn't been eating well since she got to Scott's place, and the various adventures they'd been having weren't helping. She went to the common room to eat, cold cereal that was as unappetizing as anything else to her.

Illyana shook her head. “You better be careful,” she said. “We need you, and if you go on like this, you can't help us.”

“I'm not trying to,” she said.

“What's going on?”

“Nightmares.”

Illyana folded her arms on the table. “Nightmare, or bad dreams?”

“Bad dreams. Not the guy. I can deal with him.”

“What about?”

She didn't answer.

“I've heard it all. You can't scare me.”

“Dead people,” Kitty said. “I don't want to talk about it.”

Illyana dropped it. She understood not wanting to talk. Emma came in, looking concerned, to tell them Scott had work to do. A mutant was in need of help, and they were all needed. Kitty was glad. She needed to think about something else. Then Scott told them where they were going.

“We're going to Vegas.”

Kurt had been attacked there. Defending Hope. He'd teleported her, even after he had an arm through his chest, all the way to Utopia before he died.

Jean stared at Kitty when she came into the room.

“Ms. Pryde, are you sure you're all right?” she asked.

“I'm fine, Jean. Really,” Kitty said, but when she looked at Jean, her sweet young face so open and wanting to help, she said, “We're going to Las Vegas.”

“You don't like Vegas?”

Kitty looked her in the eye. “No.”


	3. Some Quiet Place

The dreams haunted her. She had them every night, sometimes more than one, if she woke. They always began the same. Always Kurt, in his white robe on the cliff, and always he would say her name and turn to greet her. Sometimes push the hood off his head. Sometimes he stood up but mostly he crouched or sat. He would tell her not to be afraid, that he missed her, loved her, wished her not to grieve. He'd said that last night.

“Don't grieve for me any more, Kätzchen.”

She'd woken up then, crying. “I can't, I _can't_ , not when you're in my head every night.”

Now she sat stirring her cereal and not eating it, while Illyana stared at her and Kitty pretended she wasn't.

“What is wrong with you?” Illyana finally said.

“Nothing,” Kitty replied.

“Liar.”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Why not?”

She stirred her cereal. Why not? Because it was insane. She'd gone back to sleep and there he was again, another dream, picking up where the last had left off.

He was laughing, his fangs plainly visible. “I'm not in your head, Kätzchen,” he said. “It's not a dream.”

Kitty put her head in her hands and growled. “It's complicated,” she said to Illyana.

“Isn't everything?” But she didn't press it further.

She felt like she hadn't slept in a year. Kitty called her students together and told them to take the day off and study. She had to try to sleep. In her room, she shut the door and stared at the bed. And then the ceiling, knowing it was silly to look up. Up was an earthly notion, and for all she knew, she was looking down into the universe.

“I _have_ to get some sleep, Kurt. Please.”

She woke up a few hours later, having dreamed nothing at all. That was creepier than the dreams.

Something strange was going on, and once she got past the fear, she began to be hopeful. It couldn't be Kurt, could it? He couldn't be speaking to her through her dreams from some other plane of existence. Could he? And yet, Kitty had been to places she'd never dreamed of, Illyana was the on again, off again ruler of Limbo, and she'd seen hell itself. Why couldn't Kurt be talking to her?

When she got ready for bed that night, she took a few moments to think about what she wanted to say to him. She could never speak during her dreams, but she was beginning to think he could hear her. Was he watching her?

“You better not be spying on me when I'm in the shower,” she said aloud. And then, “I don't understand what's happening. Is this your doing? And how? And why? Where are you?” She had a million questions for him. If only she could speak to him, sit with him. She felt so selfish. If he was really talking to her in her dreams, listening to her beforehand, how could she want more? How could she not?

“Kätzchen.” Kitty's heart trilled at his voice, the same as it had always been in life. He no longer greeted her looking out at the valley, but facing her, like he was waiting for her to show up again. Could he see her?

“I would never invade your privacy like that,” he said. “I know this is confusing. I don't completely understand it myself, but there are many things I don't understand. I'll do my best to tell you what I can. Here, where I am, there is great happiness to be had, should I choose it.” He looked over his shoulder away from the valley. His face was full of sorrow when he looked back. “But I can't seem to join in. I can't seem to forget the world I left behind. The people I left behind.”

She wanted to scream to him that they hadn't forgotten him, either. That she had never forgotten him, never could. But as always, her voice was silence.

“This is somewhat my doing, yes, but I don't know exactly how. I don't understand how it happens, only that I tried once with Logan, to help him, but he never realized what it was. That it was me, the real me. But you seem to understand. And you were easier to reach because you seem to be,” he paused to grin one of his charming, flirtatious smiles, “thinking about me a lot.”

 _I miss you so much! I do think about you, all the time, because I miss you_.

“It seems to make it easier, whatever it is I've managed. I don't know how, but I can tell you why. Things are not right here, in the afterlife. That is the _where_. Something has happened, and I am going to stop it.” A small blue creature appeared over his shoulder from nowhere, and Kitty recognized it as one of the little annoying Bamfs that had swarmed the school, saved her life once. They reminded her every day of Kurt, while not _being_ him at all. “These are my little brothers,” he said, and Kitty woke up.

“Dammit,” she cursed when her eyes flew open. “Dammit, Kurt, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake up.” She got water, sat down, and tried to clear her head. It was so hard to sleep now, after she woke from these dreams. Or whatever they were. So she talked to him instead.

“Little brothers? All those annoying little creatures that stole Hank's things, they're related to you? Where did they come from? And what trouble are you talking about? Belasco? Mephisto? Is there a way I can help?”

She lay down on her bed and stared at the ceiling. “I miss you, Kurt. I miss you every day. I left the school, you know. I had a lot of reasons. Excuses, really. But I left because it reminded me of you too much. I miss you,” she said, and tears filled her eyes. She blinked, driving them away, annoyed at crying again. She was tired of crying. She rolled onto her side and squeezed her eyes shut. “I miss you.”

She didn't think she'd ever fall asleep, and then, there he was.

“I'm sorry, Kätzchen, I didn't mean to lose you like that. It seems that intense emotional responses short circuit the connection somehow. I'll try not to surprise you. I know you left the school, and I know why. And it's all right. You don't owe me an explanation. I miss you, too, _meine Freundin_ , with all my heart. But have good faith. I am going to tell you about the trouble that is coming. Try to stay calm. I'm going to talk about my father.” He paused, waiting to see if she would leave him. Then he continued. “Azazel is here. He has terrible plans. He wants to hurt people, which is no surprise I'm sure.”

Kitty wanted to reach out to him. She knew how it hurt him to think of Azazel.

“He is building an army, planning an attack on the afterlife. The Bamfs and I are making plans to stop him.”

That was no surprise, either. It was simply who Kurt was, a man of honor who would always try to do what was right.

“And I _do_ need your help.”


	4. No Memory Here

When she woke up in the morning, she wrote everything down. Everything Kurt had said, every detail about Azazel's attack, the gate, the Bamfs. She had to deliver it to Logan.

“I need your help,” Kitty said before Illyana could remark on her state of disarray.

“With your hair? There's no hope.”

“This is serious. Does Limbo connect to the rest of the Afterlife?”

“What?”

“ _Does_ it?” Kitty demanded.

“Parts of it. I can reach hell and some of the other worlds. Why?”

Kitty sat down. “This might sound really...crazy. But hear me out.”

“I grew up in Limbo. Not much sounds crazy to me.”

“Kurt's been talking to me in my dreams.”

“Okay, that's crazy.”

“I thought so too, but he can hear me. He answers me.”

“You're sure?”

“Yes. No, I mean, I'm sure, but there's always a possibility I could be wrong. But I don't think I am. It makes more sense than me dreaming it all. Why would I think Azazel was about to attack heaven?”

“He's going to _what_?”

“He is going to attack heaven and hell and the whole afterlife. He wants the souls.”

“How do you know that?” Illyana was listening intently now, and Jean had wandered in, too.

“Kurt told me.”

“Your friend, Kurt?” Jean said. “But he's...he passed away.”

“I know. But somehow...he tried with Logan but he wouldn't believe. And apparently no one else was willing to listen. Or able to. I'm not clear on that exactly, because I don't really understand how he's doing this. I don't think he does, either.”

“So can you get to the afterlife? To heaven?” Kitty asked.

Illyana shook her head. “Not from Limbo, no. It only connects to the...less pleasant realms.”

“Okay. We might still be able to help. Can you let them know—anyone who's loyal to you—what Azazel's planning? Would they fight back?”

“I can try.”

Kitty found Scott arguing with Emma outside, and interrupted.

“I don't have time for your lovers' spat,” she replied when Scott tried to send her back inside. “I need to talk to the school.”

“Absolutely not. We can't let them know our location.”

Kitty sighed. “They probably already do, it's not like they don't have Cerebro, Scott.”

Emma put a hand on her hip. “She's right, Scott.”

“Why do you need to talk to them?”

“Because Azazel is going to destroy the afterlife, and if he does, everyone is going to die.”

“If Logan won't talk to me, then put someone on who will. Where's Ororo?” Kitty said.

On the other end of the call, Bobby the elder sounded uncertain. “I dunno, Kitty, they're pretty—she wants to talk to you,” he said to someone else.

“I don't want to talk to you,” Logan said, and hung up.

“Dammit!” With Illyana in Limbo, their quick transportation was gone, too. She called back. “Bobby don't say my name this time, and get me Ororo.”

Ororo at least listened. Kitty didn't know if she believed her, but she listened.

“And you think Kurt is in danger?”

“Yes, we all are. Listen, the Bamfs, they're doing stuff, right, building something?”

“They're a nuisance. They've stolen Hank's coffee maker and he's been on a rampage for days.”

“Ororo, you have to find the thing they're building. It's a gate—it'll take you to Kurt. You have to hurry, there isn't much time.”

“Thank you for your help, Kätzchen,” Kurt said to her that night as she slept. “I'm sorry you won't be able to come here to help me. I know you would if you could. But don't worry. If my plan succeeds, I may be seeing you soon.”

She woke up feeling sick, like she had the first time he seemed to have heard her. Seeing her? What did he mean by that?

“How?” she said. “In my dreams?” She had to stop, tears welling up again. She'd cried more in the last few weeks than she had when he first died. Now she rolled over and buried her face in her pillow and waited for sleep again.

He wasn't there.

She talked to him all the next day, but he wasn't there that night, either. By the third night, she forced herself to acknowledge that it was over, and she would not be seeing him again, not even in her dreams, or whatever they'd been. It was like losing him all over again.

Scott sat down across from her on the fourth morning, folding his hands in front of him. Kitty was more tired than she could ever remember being. She hadn't been sleeping properly for weeks, and the sudden loss of Kurt again had sent her into a bout of sleeplessness.

“I just had a call from Ororo,” Scott said.

Illyana slid in beside him. “Really?”

“Kurt's alive.”

Kitty didn't remember how the bowl wound up on the floor and her lap covered in milk and soggy cereal. But she remembered feeling numb, sobbing in Illyana's arms repeating “No, no, no,” like it was something she didn't want.

“It was what you told us,” Scott continued, as if Kitty hadn't just nearly, or actually fainted at the table. “Azazel attacked, Kurt fought back. And some of the X-Men joined him. He came back with them, and brought Azazel.”

It had been real, all those dreams that weren't dreams. She'd been hearing his real voice, somehow, and he had heard her, too. How was that possible?

Kitty put her head between her knees. “Where is he?” she asked as she stared at the floor.

“He's at the school right now, getting a full health evaluation. Ororo says he wants to see you.”

“But?”

“Logan won't let us go there.” Kitty felt a hand on the back of her neck and looked up to see Emma leaning down.

“Scott told them how to get here.”

Kitty sat up and stared at him. “You did that?”

Scott shrugged. “You made a good point. They probably know where we are anyway, and if they don't, they can easily find us. That they've left us alone is a good faith step.”

Good faith. Kurt had mentioned it.

“Yeah.” She swallowed. “When? When is he coming?”

Scott, who rarely showed much emotion, smiled. “A few hours.”


	5. So Stand Stricken

Kitty was useless. She paced the common room, unable to sit for more than a few seconds. Young Jean hovered and Illyana looked amused. Kitty didn't care. Part of her didn't believe it. Part of her was terrified. Part of her realized a plane was landing outside, and she bolted for the door, flying through it to stand stricken in the snow.

It was him. Really him this time, not some doppelganger who would push her away and be cruel to her, mocking her friendship. He was alone, and he started across the snow with the same graceful gait he'd always had, his tail swishing exactly the same way. He held his arms open for her as she ran to meet him, his smile the same, his eyes the same.

She slammed into his chest, not caring if she knocked him over, and he smelled the same. It was Kurt, her Kurt, and he was real.

“Is this another dream?” she asked, though her words were garbled by the press of her face into his chest, arms so tight they hurt.

“No, Kätzchen, it's real. Incredible but real.”

She sobbed, a great, breaking sound that seemed to come from deep inside, and he held her as tightly as she was holding him. Kitty cried into his sweater, until her face became so cold, in spite of his warmth—exactly the same—that she had to stop so they could go inside.

She couldn't quite bear to let go of him, so she held his hand. Everyone had turned out in the common room to greet him and welcome him back. He sat down at the table, in the seat Kitty normally used, freshly mopped up by someone. Kitty sat beside him and wished she could still be wrapped around him, through him. She could never be close enough or hold him long enough.

He answered questions and they all talked for a long time, and Kurt kept his arm around her. She held his other hand, twisting her fingers in and out of his two thick ones, the same as she'd done years ago.

The talking helped calm her, and by the time Scott excused himself for work, and Emma announced the students had been quiet for too long, she could almost think straight. Suddenly they were alone in the common room.

“How did you talk to me in my dreams?” she asked.

“I honestly don't know,” he said. “I looked over, and there you were, looking back at me.”

“What was I doing?”

“I don't know, it was your face, mostly. I swear, I didn't spy on you. I'd never do that.”

She smiled. She didn't even care if he had, he was alive again. “I know. What happened with Azazel?” She never referred to him as his father. The man didn't deserve the title.

“He brought his army, and we defeated him, is the short version. Long version, the gate worked but not very well. Those who came to help were scattered to all corners of the afterlife, and Hank was possessed. Logan nearly died in a frozen wasteland. Ororo helped me battle pirates.”

“There were pirates in your afterlife?”

He shrugged. “Of course.”

She wanted to move her hands over his skin and feel the realness of him with her own senses. “How are you back? How are you here?”

His smile wavered, but she saw it. “Kurt?”

“It's...it's nothing to worry about, Kätzchen,” he said and smiled.

“Please don't, Kurt. Don't do the thing where you won't talk to me. I've been through hell missing you. Don't shut me out already.”

He looked at her steadily, and Kitty felt her shoulders sag under the weight of knowing this was really Kurt, and he wasn't going to tell her. The tingling of sadness and disappointment began in her chest, behind her heart, and she could already feel him pulling away from her, as he'd done so many times before. She didn't want to let go of him, but she loosened her grip. Nothing had changed. Not one thing. This was really Kurt, her Kurt, who kept secrets to himself because he thought he was protecting her.

“All right,” he said.

“What?”

“I'll tell you. But not here. Is there somewhere private we can sit?”

“My room. Or the Blackbird.”

“Your room is closer and probably more comfortable.”

“Are you serious?”

His fingers curled around her hand gently but firmly. “I've had some time to think about things. And I did keep things from you. Sometimes for good reason, and sometimes...I should have trusted you a little more.”

“You trusted me.”

“Not with... There were things I didn't want to share because they were personal. I trusted you as my teammate, and as a friend. But I could have trusted you with more. And I didn't.” They had arrived at her room, and she shut the door behind her.

Kurt took in the spartan surroundings, before sitting gingerly on the end of her bed. That look of sadness and melancholy she saw in her early dreams was back in his face. Kitty knelt on the bed beside him and touched his face, soft fuzz coating it, like always. “I'm strong enough, Kurt. You can't hurt me. Nothing can hurt as much as losing you.”

“You won't lose me again,” he said, but he sounded sad.

She put her arms around him. “God no, I couldn't bear it. I couldn't live through that again.”

“You won't have to. The Bamfs, Kitty, they began as Azazel's creations. He fed them his own blood and kept them to work for him. But he left one behind, and I made it mine. I turned more and more of them from Azazel. And when there were enough of them, I used them to come through the gate they built, bringing Azazel with me. I bound him with blood magic to the Earth.”

Kitty held his hand while he talked, one knee half draped over his lap in her effort to be as close as possible to him.

“I bribed the Bamfs to my cause, Kitty. I bribed them with the only thing I had to give them.”

“Blood?”

“ _Nein_ , if only. But a dead man has no blood and no body, _liebchen_. Only...only a soul.”

“You gave them your soul?” she whispered.

He nodded. “To save every other soul, I gave up mine.” His voice cracked, and a tear leaked from his eye. She'd only seen him cry one other time. “I don't know what this means for me.”

“I'll share mine with you.”

He chuckled. “Thank you for the sentiment, _liebchen_ , but I don't think—”

“It can. It _can_ , Kurt, I don't want to be separated from you again. I know there's a way, there has to be. This world is more complicated than anyone ever thought. If you can give your soul away, I can share mine.”

He stared into her eyes, huge and serious as she clutched his sweater in her fists. “Kitty?” He touched her cheek. “You're serious.”

“Yes.”

“I don't know how that would...I don't know.”

“I don't know how, either, but I swear I will not leave this life without you. I love you, Kurt. Don't you know?”

“I do know, Kätzchen,” he said. “It's the reason I could talk to you.”

She swallowed thickly and tried to pull away, but his hands were holding her face now, and he was leaning closer.

“Because I love you, too. Love makes the connection.”

He leaned down to kiss her, with warm, soft lips and a mouth that tasted like coffee and Kurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end part, with the soul stuff, I realize it's super cheesy fluff, but I wrote this for me, so *shrug*. :-)
> 
> But you know, it's totally possible. I mean, the stuff they do with souls and stuff in the comics. Anything could happen.


End file.
